by I N Foggarty
Indeed that was not what he had told her about the various ventures she periodically presented him with. However, her hint towards a big score caught his attention. While he had long ago learned caution, big money still pulled at him like gravity at a rock climber. “What’s the job… and how big are we talking?” he asked tentatively while helping himself to a much-needed drink.
Though he could not see her, Sergio could visualise the smile spreading across the woman’s lips when she spoke. “It’s like way easy. All we gotta do is find some kid and keep them cosy until the relevant party can come and collect. An easy 250K if you ask me.”
Sergio almost choked on the bourbon, “two-hundred and fifty thousand,” he spluttered, the liquor burning the back of his throat. For a moment he said nothing and ran what Tanya had just told him through his head. Unsurprisingly, it did not add up. No one paid that sort of money for only a kid. “What is the catch?”
Tanya did not hesitate to answer. “Nothing, cept that we got to find them first. This buyer must just want this particular kid badly.”
Sergio frowned. On one hand, when things sounded too good to be true they usually were. However, on the other, that amount of money would go a long way to turning around his fortunes. He pondered for a moment before making a decision. “Look into it,” he said slowly. “If it seems to be straight up then get back to me.”
“Aye, Aye, boss,” Tanya chirped. “Go easy on the bourbon.”
Sergio looked between the bottle on his desk and the handset. How in the…? The line went dead. Shaking his head he returned the phone to its cradle. Slouching back in his chair, Gutierrez closed his eyes and willed unconsciousness to deliver him from the headache. If this venture worked out he might be able to use that two-hundred and fifty thousand to buy some better painkillers… or at least some better company with which to endure the headache.
The thought that lingers
It was early morning with the sun slowly making its way from the horizon above the tops of the smaller buildings in the Chicago skyline. The air temperature sat at a nice twenty degrees and if the sky remained blue and cloud-free it would likely climb to about twenty-five by mid-day or at least so the morning weather report had claimed.
Down below the near perfect blue sheet, a particularly quiet suburb lay in anticipation of the inevitable Monday morning lively period. On well-kept lawns what little dew still existed, glistened mystifyingly in the growing warmth of the sun. If its time had come then it intended to go out in style. Elsewhere, on one lawn in particular, a solar-powered sprinkler sprang into action. A rather quaint rainbow forming where the light penetrated the water streams.
Into this picturesque advert for suburban living, the tall figure of an eighteen-year-old boy burst at a run. His red sweatpants and shirt were stained from obvious effort while a well-used pair of running shoes beat a rhythm into the tarmac. Strapped to his wrists and ankles were a set of sturdy running weights. While from his pocket a black cord ran up the inside of his sweatshirt to a pair of earbuds. His right hand clutched a half-empty plastic water bottle, with his left holding only air; though still doing an impressive job of crushing its contents. His name was Matt Taylor.
Heat rays hung low above the slowly baking road as Matt let out a laboured breath. Trying in vain to ignore the current protests from his tired limbs. After a few long and strenuous minutes, he reached the end of the street and slowed his pace to a jog. On making a left turn his music player elected to play his current favourite track.
There is only the music he thought… The opening guitar rift hammered its way towards the first verse. Just the music… everything else is immaterial. At least that’s what he tried to tell himself. Concentrate on the music, ignore the pain and keep going. That was his method for surviving his morning runs. However, today the state of mind in which only the sweet sounds of his music existed hung just out of reach. Dangling before him like the proverbial carrot that the donkey would never eat… taunting him. Only in his case, the situation had been of his own making. For both the inability to concentrate and the reason he had adopted this particular method in the first place, were one and the same.
Naturally, as was the case with many a teenage boys problems, the source happened to be one of times classics. A shining light in an ocean of darkness. A brilliant rose in a field of weeds. A child of Venus and heir to her beauty. Or put simply…a girl, his girl.
It had been her idea for him to start the day with a run and to adopt this particular method of surviving it. A good way for him to build up stamina and an excellent way to push through the pain that the increased miles would bring each day. She had taught him to lose himself in the beat and to time his breathing with it. Taught him to use it to encourage his tired limbs to keep going until his feet had eaten away the required distance. Naturally of course, as is typically the way of things when involving one's girlfriend, she had been right. But not today. Unfortunately, at this point in time, the mere thought of her negated the effect.
By the time he had forced his aching limbs to traverse the length of the street, Matt had endured enough. A build-up of lactic acid ate away at every shred of muscle in his legs and the unwanted mental workout caused each step to feel like a thousand knives. Sighing deeply he took another left turn instead of his normal right and began heading for home.
For once luck had been on his side and it had taken only five minutes to reach the tall wooden fence and gate that marked the boundary of his home. Stretching out his free hand he grasped the sturdy metal handle of the back gate. A quick twist and a hard shove from his shoulder and it burst open. Staggering forward Matt absent-mindedly knocked the hunk of rough wood back into its frame before making his way up the path. Reaching the porch he rapped on the door with his knuckles before tearing at the Velcro of his running weights with his teeth.
“Morning, Son,” a male voice said as the door opened in front of him. “Backdoor and fifteen minutes early, that’s not like you”
“Morning, Dad,” Matt replied off handily, scooping up the weights. “Wasn’t feeling up to the full thing today.”
Dumping the offending items into a small red plastic box, Matt didn’t even bother to attempt the laces of his running shoes. Instead, opting for the more primal method of wrenching them off his feet; socks and all. Barefoot he made his way out of the small back porch and into the kitchen. At the table, his dad had already returned to his morning coffee and newspaper.
“Hmm… See the mayor is taking a hard stance against these traffickers,” his dad murmured, flicking the page. “So, what’s wrong, Son?”
On hearing the question Matt stopped dead, heart rate hitching up a notch. He had hoped to make it out of the room before any further questions were asked as then he could have gotten away with the ‘sorry I didn’t hear you earlier’ excuse when next they spoke. Realising, however, that the pause would now make him even more suspicious he opted for an outright lie. “Nothing. Just slightly tired this morning. Besides we have a game this weekend, don’t want to overdo it.”
“Well, I’m sure you know best, Son. Just don’t let the Missis catch you.”
His dad let out a small chuckle and Matt gulped slightly; the topic of his girlfriend the last thing he wanted to hear mention of. If she found out he had cut his morning run short on top of accidentally blowing her off that weekend she would probably come down on him like a tonne of bricks. No, he thought glumly, she would definitely come down on him like a tonne of bricks. In fact, a tonne of bricks landing on him would probably be preferable. This realisation must have shown through on his face as his dad, who in the in-between time had turned around to look at his son, began to laugh.
“Don’t worry, Son, I won’t tattle on you. Besides, we hardly see her these days. How’s she doing?”
“She’s fine, Dad,” Matt replied in a slightly blunt manner, trying to edge towards the door. “Anyway, I need to hit the shower before Lou…” The sound of a slam followed by a click cut Matt off
mid-sentence; causing him to let out a low moan.
“…Before Lou goes into the bathroom for the next half hour,” his dad finished for him with another chuckle. Then, on seeing the look of anguish on his son's face added. “The upstairs bathrooms free and Donny’s still in the living room watching TV…” His dad paused for a split second to glance at his watch. “You have about thirty seconds before his programme ends to beat him to the stairs.”
Matt didn’t need telling twice. Moving at a faster pace than he had gone all morning he darted past his dad and out into the hall towards the stairs. The second his foot hit the first step a voice from elsewhere in the hall bellowed after him. “OH HELL NO. NO YOU DON’T, MATT!”
Cursing his dad’s time inaccuracy Matt tried to force his dense feeling legs to climb the stairs faster; the sound of his brothers thumping feet ever closer behind him. At the top, he made a quick turn to his right but not quick enough to stop the figure of his younger brother from barrelling into him and sending them both down onto the cream carpeted floor. A few seconds later and the two were a tangle of flailing limbs as they wrestled each other, neither willing to give up on the coveted prize of hot water and soap.
“Ok, ok, you win. Just get your heavy sweaty butt off of me,” Donny gasped after a few moments.
Triumphantly Matt leapt off the flattened form of his brother, who made a show of gasping for less pungent air and dived into the bathroom. Once safely locked inside he wasted no time in stripping and getting into the cubical. Turing on the shower the initial jet of cold water almost made him jump straight back out. However, the moment soon passed and glorious cascades of hot water flowed over his stiff limbs. Indeed the hot water was so welcoming to the bottom half of his body, that had his primary brain resided there, it would probably have rejected all religion in favour of one that worshipped the showerhead. Alas, the moment of relaxation did not last as from out in the hall he could hear the sound of his brother's voice whining at the woodwork.
“Come on, Matt. Hurry up in there. As much as you smell more important people have to use the bathroom.”
The boy’s complaints were soon followed by a loud thump on the door. Sighing deeply Matt realised that his moment's reprieve would be just that and quickly busied himself with the task of washing. After a few minutes, during which Donny made some more noise in the hall, he was done.
“Hallelujah!” Donny exclaimed when Matt eventually stepped out of the bathroom.
However, unbeknownst to both boys, a third person had appeared in the hall. Silently the slender figure crept along the hallway and, in a flash, shoved Matt to the side and slid into the bathroom. Turning quickly she looked at Donny and smiled.
“Sorry, Squirt, Adults first,” the voice of the stealthy usurper said slyly before slamming the door shut and sliding the bolt across.
Donny pummelled the door with his fist. “JANINE, THAT IS SOOOO UNFAIR!”
“Like you said, Squirt, as much as YOU smell more important people have to use the bathroom,” the woman, normally known as Janine replied from the other side of the door.
Matt didn’t hang around to hear the next bunch of complaints, insults and general ramblings from his younger brother. The look on Donny’s face when their older sister had usurped his place in line had almost been worth everything else he had endured. Hell, that move was worthy of… His smile vanished as the image of his girlfriend, in all her pissed off glory, drifted back into his head. An image he would undoubtedly be seeing in the flesh all too soon.
Reaching his bedroom he ran a towel over his short brown hair. Discarding it to the floor he busied himself with the ritual of dressing, trying desperately to select something his girlfriend would approve of. Eventually, he settled on a pair of black jeans and a light blue t-shirt. Not only had it been a gift from the aforementioned girlfriend but she had also commented on multiple occasions about how she felt the colour suit him. Dressing to impress might have been a cheap trick but there was precious little he could do otherwise. Finished, he looked himself up and down in the mirror and decided that if his girlfriend killed him, then at least he would be presentable for his own funeral. Collecting his rucksack he left his room behind… perhaps for the last time.
Halfway down the hall and a sound that in Matt’s house could not have been mistaken for anything other than Donny singing reached his ears. Screwing up his face slightly Matt hastily made his way down the stairs. Apparently, Donny had both made it into the bathroom and also still not taken the hint about his singing being the reason so many stray cats had taken to prowling their neighbourhood lately. He drifted back to the kitchen.
“Morning, Matt,” the cheerful voice of an energetic looking woman said when he entered. “You’re just in time, breakfasts on the bar.” She pointed to a bowl and glass that were sitting in front of an empty seat at the breakfast bar.
“Thanks, Mom,” Matt replied, moving to sit down in front of his usual breakfast of bran flakes and orange juice.
Picking up a spoon he began to attack the bowl of cereal. Although he did not feel hungry, doing anything other would have been akin to placing a neon sign above his own head that read ‘there’s something bothering me and I don’t want anyone to know about it’. Thoughts pertaining to what form his execution might take had done wonders to dissipate his normally ravenous appetite. Forcing spoonful after spoonful of cereal into his mouth he quickly cleared the bowl and then drained the glass of orange juice, all the while failing to notice for the second time that morning the appearance of his elder sister.
“Hey, Bro,” Janine greeted, giving Matt a playful punch on his upper left arm and almost causing him to spit his last mouthful of juice all over the bar. “Sorry about the shove earlier but I was dying for a pee and Lou had already fortified downstairs.”
Awkwardly swallowing, Matt turned to look at the woman. His elder sister was nearly six years older than him, an officer in the CPD and, until the flood damage to her apartment building had been repaired, a house guest. Though taller than most girls he knew, she did not quite reach the same height he did. However, her pixie cut brown hair and eyes were practically a perfect match for his own.
“So why don’t I make it up to ya, fancy a ride to school?”
Matt considered this for a moment. Normally he would have said thanks but no thanks; walking to school contributing a small part to his fitness regime. However, today the thought of more exertion did nothing but tire him out. Besides, he was most likely already dead so what did it matter? “Yeah. Sure, thanks.”
A look of surprise spread across Janine’s face. “Slacking off today, are we? Not to worry, I’m not about to offer you a ride and then sell you out. That would just be plain mean.”
As she finished the surprise morphed into wickedness, causing Matt to ponder once more, whether his girlfriend could conceivably make his punishment worse given the right incentive. “Ok, just let me go brush my teeth and I’m ready to go.”
Out in the hall, he caught a glimpse of a girl with long blonde, almost white hair appear when he slipped into the bathroom. From inside, Matt could make out the sound of his younger sister begging with Janine for a ride too. Furiously he began brushing bits of cereal from between his teeth. A second later and he heard a rather high-pitched squeal, followed by the words thank you said several times in quick succession. It seemed that, like always, Lou had gotten her way. A quick swig of mouthwash later and he was done. Back in the hallway, Matt wandered over to join the two girls by the front door.
“Right, where’s the Squirt?”
“I have a name you know!” the disgruntled voice of Donny said from somewhere up the stairs.
“Yep and until such a time as you either A- grow taller than me or B- stop responding to it, it’s still going to be Squirt.”
Matt rolled his eyes in a long-suffering manner, the figure of his younger brother appearing at the top of the stairs.
“She’s not taller than you and you don’t call her that,” the y
ounger boy replied indignantly, pointing at Lou.
“True. But if I called the pair of you by the same thing it would be too much for your tiny brain to handle. Besides, she’s older than you.”
“Do they always have to do this?” Lou then said to Matt as though she felt the entire argument somehow made her look bad. Matt didn’t have a chance to reply as Janine turned to look at them.
“Right. Matt, Lou.” She turned to glance at Donny. “Squirt,” she emphasised. “Let’s go. Some of us have places to be and bad guys to bust.”
With that, the party of four trouped out of the front door. Reaching the sidewalk Matt turned around and glanced at the house, one last look for old time’s sake. He sighed and felt the corners of his mouth turn down. Behind him, his younger siblings seemed to be fighting over who was getting the front seat and Janine’s yelling more than anything encouraged him to climb into the back beside Donny, that morning’s out and out loser. As the car pulled away his brother cursed and struggled to balance his laptop on his knees. Some sort of gun-wielding game splashed across the screen.
“Dude I can’t get any sort of connection…my character’s gunna be Swiss cheese,” he whined loudly causing Lou to scoff and flip her hair from the front and open a compact mirror.
“Like your face and your grades then,” she said touching up her lip gloss. “You think you have issues? I’m wearing popular in peach nail polish with Shimmering Silver eyeshadow because there was no nail polish remover in the house. I look like a total loser”.
“Oh the problems of middle class spoiled brats,” Janine interrupted. Before Donny could reply Matt rested his elbow on the door and looked out the window conscious of the fact his eldest sibling was watching him in the rearview mirror. As the car erupted into a discussion over nail polish, bullets and the fact that stakeouts in real life were not like video games one thought lingered. His run might have been short this morning, but his day would undoubtedly be long…
